Way Over My Head
by A Deed Without a Name
Summary: Gary really should've done more research on the exact nature of the Winchesters' relationship before swapping himself into Sam's body. Tag to 5.12, "Swap Meat." WARNING: Contains implied Wincest


**Thanks, as usual, to my editor sweetyaoi!**

* * *

Gary felt like he'd swallowed a whole sky full of lightning.

Energy and excitement were crackling along the bones of his new body, buzzing in his veins, flickering in his stomach. Every molecule of him was just so good and _right_. The easy strength pulsing through him every time he moved, like he wouldn't even break a sweat jumping a fence or kicking down a door. The smooth pull of his lungs, no tightness or hitching. And he hadn't even known you could feel celiac, but apparently you could, because there was definitely a difference between his old intestines and these healthy new ones behind his tight abs. He bet he could eat an entire loaf of bread and not spend more than a few minutes on the toilet afterwards. His ass felt a little weird, but it was easy to ignore.

This must've been what the Spartan-IIs felt like once they were finished. Minus all the super-painful surgery and experimentation, of course. Magic was so cool.

With that, and the high he was still riding off killing the ghost (a _ghost_! A _witch _ghost! Wait, had he even killed the ghost? Could you kill a ghost? Did it become a double-ghost?), Gary was pretty sure this was the best day he'd ever had. Even better than finding that spellbook in the first place.

He couldn't keep a grin off his face, sitting here in a bar that would've given Mom and Dad both conniptions, a bottle of beer he knew wouldn't make him sick in front of him. And across the table, Dean Winchester. Who he was totally, definitely going to kill. After dinner. Maybe tomorrow. The next time he got a chance, for sure.

Their pretty waitress came over with the whiskey Dean ordered for them. Gary didn't think he'd ever even seen whiskey outside of TV shows.

"Here you go, guys." She put glasses full of a caramel-colored liquid on the table.

"Y'know, do me a favor, sweetheart." Dean looked up at her and smiled. It never would've crossed Gary's mind to talk to a server like that, but she didn't seem to mind. "Would you bring me a cheeseburger with extra bacon? And fry an egg on top of it, would you?"

"Ooh, that sounds good," Gary said enthusiastically, glancing at her. "Ditto." He didn't bother asking about a gluten-free bun. This wasn't the kind of place that'd offer those sorts of options...and, best of all, he didn't even need it.

"Be right back with your order," the waitress said with a smile, walking off.

"Okay," Dean said as soon as she was gone, fixing Gary with a look. "Who are you and what've you done with Sam?"

Gary's kidneys had just gotten dunked in a bucket of ice water. He swallowed, and tried his best to play it cool. "W-what d'you mean?"

"Bacon cheeseburgers, now?" Dean asked skeptically. "Do-you-feel-okay" skeptical, though. Not "did-you-cast-a-body-switching-spell-and-catapult-yourself-right-out-of-your-sucky-old-life-and-into-mine" skeptical. The knots that'd suddenly drawn tight up under Gary's collarbone loosened.

"I don't know," he replied as casually as he could. "I eat 'em, don't I? Anyways..." He lifted his whiskey with a thrill. "We are celebrating."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean agreed, eyebrows going up and then back down. "Another one bites the dust." He _clink_ed Gary's glass with his own. "Nice work today."

Oh, Gary was _so _glad he hadn't shot him. Yet. "You, too. I had a, uh, really awesome day, man." He smiled at Dean. _The Han Solo to my Luke _popped into his head, and cool as it was, he probably ought to stop thinking like that. Couldn't get too attached, had to get that bounty. Trevor and Nora were counting on him. Especially Nora. "Seriously."

He knocked his whiskey back and immediately, instantly regretted it, when the smell (sweet, rotten, bad) hit his sinuses half a second before the liquid hit his tongue. Oh, god, it tasted like gasoline. And it _burned_ like mouthwash on steroids, but he swallowed, he had to, Dean's radar was already blipping and Sam Winchester was obviously a drinker, since he'd automatically ordered for him. The warmth when it hit his stomach wasn't so bad, but Gary found himself gulping back a gag.

There _had _to be a better way to drink alcohol. Maybe he should give cocktails a try.

"Whoo," Gary managed, strangled. "Sweet."

Dean eyed him for a long, long time. Every other heartbeat, Gary was convinced his cover was blown and he was gonna have to figure out a way to kill this guy in the middle of the crowded bar. Could he break his neck? He was super strong now and everything, but he'd read that was way harder than the movies made it look. Thankfully, he didn't have to find out for himself. Dean eventually just repeated, "A really awesome day?"

"Yeah." Gary shrugged off the fear-sweat, glad he was wearing a heavy canvas jacket. Sam had very...practical taste in clothes. "Why not?"

"It was a random, D-list ghost hunt," Dean stated, which more or less confirmed to Gary that being a monster hunter was the coolest thing ever. "That...that's _awesome_ to you?"

"I can't be in a good mood?" Gary tried washing the whiskey taste down with his beer and, honestly, that wasn't great, either. Cocktails it was. Maybe a daiquiri.

"Yeah, I guess, I just..." Dean trailed off, looking away, glass dangling from his blunt fingertips. A second later, he came back, something fight-y in his voice. "No, actually. It's not really your style, Sam."

Gary didn't know where Sam was right now. Floating around somewhere out in the void, hopefully (although there was a teeny, tiny chance there'd been some blowback with the spell and he'd wound up in Gary's old body, which was why he'd tossed the phones). Whatever'd happened to him, what the hell was his problem? Not appreciating how great his life was? He drove all over the country, kicked ass twenty-four-seven, had waitresses smile at him and _not _because they felt bad for him, in high school and with his mom still ordering for him whenever they went out. At least Gary, starting to feel a little floaty and relaxed, got it.

"Well, then, it's a new me," Gary proclaimed, spreading his hands. They were huge. There was a saying about that and in this case, it was true. He'd spent a long time admiring the corresponding body part in the bathroom last night, over-the-moon impressed and giddy. Not in a gay way. It was his now. "I mean, come on. Why shouldn't I be happy? I've got a gun, I'm getting drunk, _and _I look like _this_."

He gestured to his face. Strong jaw, crazy cheekbones, glossy hair longer than his parents ever would've let him grow it. He could be a model. Or an actor.

Much to his surprise, Dean kind of laughed at that. His eyes softened up. He drank from his glass like he actually enjoyed it, like some kind of psychopath, and set it aside. He looked at Gary again.

"You _do _look like...that," he agreed. "I'd sorta noticed." He shook his head. "Sorry. You wanna, uh, lighten up, enjoy the little things for once in your life, I shouldn't be getting on your case about it. It's great, really. 'Specially right now." He put a hand on top of Gary's all of a sudden. It was heavily callused and really warm. "Could probably both use a little of that."

Gary felt his head cock to one side. He smiled a little, totally confused, and pulled his hand out from under Dean's with halting, uncertain movements. Something he almost-but-didn't-quite recognize ignited between his stomach and groin.

"Sorry, uh...what're you doing?" Maybe he just needed to eat.

"C'mon," Dean said, voice gone low and soft. Tender. "Know you're shy about PDA, man, but nobody in here cares. And if they say anything, I'll break their face." He folded his arms on the table. "Like you said. We're celebrating." He leaned forward then.

"Personal...digital...?" Gary didn't get what was happening until Dean's lips (just super full, wasted on a guy) hit his.

He reacted right away, though, jerking back quick as he could. Maybe a little too violently, as it turned out. He wasn't a hundred percent used to his increased height and weight yet, and the floaty feeling had him just the littlest bit unbalanced, so he went right over backwards. Pretty spectacularly, too. His knees hit the table, upending it and sending beer bottles and glasses flying, and he smacked right into the floor skull-first, flashbang grenade going off in his brain. He felt something crack and hoped it was the chair.

"Holy crap!" As Gary pushed himself up on one elbow and felt out his budding goose egg, wincing, Dean scrambled out of his chair and hurried over to kneel next to him. He looked at his eyes, frowning. At least it didn't seem like he was gonna try and kiss him again. "Take it easy, Evel Knievel. You okay?"

The bar was completely silent except for the music, everybody staring at him, and Gary's cheeks started burning. It was like the first day of fifth grade all over again. He _would not _let himself cry. Damn it. "Y-yeah, think so."

"All right. Awesome." Dean patted Gary's shoulder heavily, then grabbed his arm and hauled him up. Looking down, Gary saw he had indeed broken the chair. "Let's go." Dean raised his voice and addressed the whole bar: "Sorry, everybody. Wouldn't know it from looking at him, but this guy can_not_ hold his liquor. Like, at all." They stood awkwardly for a second, then Dean said, "Yeah." He pulled his wallet out and left a stack of bills on the seat of his chair. "Oughta cover it." Still holding onto Gary's arm, he stepped over the toppled table and headed for the door. Their boots crunched on the broken glass.

Gary'd _really _been looking forward to that burger, but now didn't seem like a great time to bring it up.

Outside, Dean brought him straight to that gorgeous car of his. _Theirs..._maybe just Gary's, soon. Eventually. Once they were both sitting on the rich leather of the bench seat, doors closed, Dean turned to him.

"What the hell was that?" he wanted to know.

"Okay," Gary started. His head was _really _swimming. Maybe Sam wasn't as heavy a drinker as he'd thought. Or maybe he had a concussion. "Um. Dude?" He looked at Dean. "I'm flattered, obviously. And I'm open-minded. Straight ally and everything. But I'm...just _not _into guys."

There was a pause.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, exaggeratedly slow, "you _are_."

"I'm _not_," Gary repeated. Dean's mouth was open.

"So, what, you're gonna try to tell me all those dorky crushes you had in middle school were 'just a phase?'" he demanded after a second. "Were you 'experimenting' with your roommate in college? Or _me_? After all the shit we've been through, Sam, are you telling me you think you can just flip a switch and not be - ?"

"No - " Gary was very disturbed by his body was reacting to the situation, automatic or instinctive or whatever. He was about to bust out of these baggy jeans. Did Sam _like _being yelled at in the car?

"You've been so freaking weird today." Dean shook his head, looking out the window. "Shit. I cannot _believe_ I'm saying this, but...you need to talk about something?"

Gary didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure what'd kept it from him until now, booze, head trauma, the fact he wasn't actually Sam Winchester, but he'd just remembered a very important detail about these two. "Wait, wait." He put a hand out. "Wait." He looked at Dean, able to feel the horror on his face. "He's your _brother_."

Dean just stared at him, shocked.

"...isn't he?" Gary hedged, wondering if this was a Luke and Leia situation. It was a second later he realized he'd screwed up. "I mean." He cleared his throat. "I'm...your brother?" _Craaaap_. "_I'm_ you're brother. I am. Promise."

"You're not Sam," Dean stated as he shook his head.

"Yeah I am," Gary tried.

"No." Dean's eyes were like chips of ice fished out of the deep ocean. Gary felt like he could cut himself on their edges. "You're _not_."

"Yeah, thank _god_!" Gary exclaimed, letting go. "What the f - " He caught himself, then un-caught himself, because if ever there was a situation that warranted the F-bomb, this was it. "What the _fuck _is _wrong _with you guys?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Save it, Freaky Friday, we've heard it all before. _All _of it. 'Promise,'" he mimicked, then flicked the door locks down. "Now. Already know you're not a demon or a shifter, and you seem about as dangerous as a toddler with a butter knife, so...wanna give me my brother back?"

"I." Gary's mouth was suddenly super dry. "C-can't."

Dean nodded like he'd been expecting that answer. Then he clocked Gary across his strong new jaw.

The lightning went out with a zip.


End file.
